I wake up,
I wash my face,
I breathe,
I beat my heart,
I grow my hair,
grow the grass,
shed old skin,
I whistle,
a breeze and more brutal blows,
I sing,
fly high on some wings,
I wave,
surge onto the shore,
I see,
shine on everything,
I think I never end.
Milk Sugar, online literary journal, October/November 2011
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